


More Than I Bargained For

by dogbite_propaganda



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M, Mild Smut, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogbite_propaganda/pseuds/dogbite_propaganda
Summary: A trek up the side of a mountain has left Brock ragged and tired. That same journey spent tracking has left Jack with buck fever. Jack's always been somewhat of an anomaly but how far he's willing to take his impulses gives Brock's expectations a run for his money.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Kudos: 8





	More Than I Bargained For

Another wayward leaf crumbled under his boot, the sound seeming to echo throughout the valley and stir the non-existent force that Brock had been sure was eyeing them. Missions like that one, out in desolate areas, always made him paranoid. It didn’t help that they were alone but he’d admit that it felt better with Jack there. Despite the whipping wind that sang its cries along the mountains and the raging river that growled as it crashed against the rocky shore, Brock felt like he could hear every breath the two of them took. It felt so out of place for them to be there, a rare reprieve from civilization, mostly untouched by man. 

With every snap of a stick or crunch of snow, Brock had to keep himself from cringing, like his silence was imperative for their success even though it really wasn’t. Jack never paid him much mind, momentarily perking up before his attention was pulled back to the thrill of the hunt. HYDRA’s Bloodhound, Jack Rollins, had all the ferocity of a true dog. Watching Jack work was like watching performance art; Brock didn’t understand it nor would he ever be able to do it himself but it was certainly a show and it captivated him every time without fail. 

If it hadn’t been a sight Brock beheld several times before, he would’ve been convinced that Jack was grasping at straws and that the two of them would die in that forest. The first time he’d witnessed the spectacle, he was so sure that it was all a trick, that Jack had lost his way and was looking for anything that could be mistaken as a lead in an attempt to save his own hide. But sure enough, they found the bastard they were looking for, hiding up a tree like a scared raccoon. Brock chalked it up to a stroke of dumb luck, a crazy coinidence brought on by a God that decided to lend her mercy to Jack. But then, he did it again. And again, and again, and again. 

Once Jack picked up a scent, he wouldn’t stop until he found his prey. Well, target, in this case. A man— no, a  _ kid _ named Donovan Hall. Twenty four years old, no wife, no children, and estranged from his family. From the looks of it, Hall joined the military to fight against some sense of abandonment after being kicked out of his home at seventeen. Unfortunately for him, he was a sitting duck as far as HYDRA was concerned and he fell right into their hands. After careful deliberation, and a bit of bending the rules, Brock was able to convince Pierce to assign Hall to Alpha. Brock was sure that under his watchful eye, Hall could become one of their best soldiers and he saw potential in the rookie that he hadn’t seen in a long time— since Jack, really. But after so long of ignoring his own, the strength of the human conscience failed to cross his mind. 

After six months on the job, Hall went AWOL. The guilt of doing HYDRA’s dirty work weighed heavy on his mind until he cracked and couldn’t take it anymore. And he did what all kids do when they get scared; he ran away and hid. That left Brock on clean up duty and his punishment was to go on a solo mission to eliminate the liability he’d created. Brock was never good at following orders, though, and got Jack to come along with him. Jack who had no idea that he wasn’t supposed to be there. Sure, maybe Brock fed him a lie or two, maybe told him that Pierce had the rest of Alpha on security detail while he spoke overseas. All of it would likely come and bite him in the ass later but, there was no way he was trekking through the Denali Mountains without his best tracker. Besides, he needed to stay warm somehow and Jack made a pretty decent furnace. 

It only took two days for Jack to sniff out a cohesive trail but to Brock, that was two days too long. It was the dead of winter in Alaska and the two of them were drenched in darkness with no hope of the sun rising and keeping them warm. 

“He went up the mountain.” Jack finally confirmed. It was the first thing he’d said in over twelve hours, since they’d begun moving that morning. The trail was slow to follow, the constant wind covering simple tracks and forcing Jack to both literally and figuratively dig for the signs. When he stood up again, he held something small and black that stood out like blood against snow on Jack’s pale, bare palm. Upon further inspection, Brock could see that it was a piece of rubber torn off the sole of a pair of hiking boots. Brock couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so relieved. 

The two of them cleared the forest, leaving the safety of the treeline to begin their haul up and onward. With every step, Brock’s freezing body seemed to get stiffer and there were several times where Jack stopped to wait for him, once or twice where he held a hand out to pull Brock over a ridge. Brock never operated well in the cold and that only got worse as he got older but if Jack minded, he never showed it and idled as long as Brock needed or wanted him to. Patience was one of his best aspects, when he wasn’t being impulsive, which Jack never was when it concerned tracking. He was the perfect predator, willing to wait hours, or even days, if it meant he got what he wanted. And on Brock’s command, he’d tear their targets to pieces. 

Another hour passed and the light snow they were mostly shielded by while they walked through the trees had turned into a vicious freezing rain, bits of ice leaving microscopic cuts and tears against the few parts of them left exposed and stinking their skin, leaving both of them with an angry, red complexion. Visibility got steadily worse, leaving their flashlights nearly obsolete as they saw nothing but walls of ice and snow. Jack already had a disadvantage sight wise and as the weather raged further, between his difficulty seeing and the altitude, he grew more disoriented. Brock was the one who pointed out the looming structure over the crest of a hill, impossibly dark against the already black horizon. 

That  _ had _ to be it. 

When they finally made it up on the porch, Brock almost cried in his relief. The rickety cabin was anything but remarkable. Shitholes that they were, Brock had been in better safehouses and a place had to be particularly dreary to even come in comparison with the filth ridden holes that HYDRA dropped them in during their missions. 

Just as he was about to open the door, a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Glancing over his shoulder, he heard Jack shush him, reaching his hand up to point at a cluster of bells in the corner, above the door. Clever. 

Somehow, Jack was able to silently disarm the rudimentary alarm and the two of them stepped inside, quiet as they could be. With their guns drawn and flashlights revealing a much better range inside of the cabin, they scoped out the place with silent efficiently, using hand signs to clear it out room by room. Once the base floor was secure, they both stood at the bottom of the stairway.

“Let’s get movin’,” Brock sighed, flicking his head to the side with a jolt in an effort to get his neck to pop. The tension that left the joint was miniscule but it was enough. “Sooner we get back, sooner I can deal with Pierce and-” 

“ _ Deal _ with Pierce?” Jack questioned, an edge of danger in his voice that raked a shiver down Brock’s spine. In his weariness, he was less careful with his words and unfortunately for him, his second was no less perceptive. Jack didn’t often dare challenge Brock’s authority but their days in the wilderness had certainly weighed enough on him to throw any sense of compliance out the door and into the fucking shitter.

“You know how the old bastard gets, Jack.” Brock deflected, startled and angry when Jack shoved him into the wall, shaking the structure. Neither of them moved at the noises they heard upstairs. Brock huffed, glaring into Jack’s eyes with his own threats in mind. 

“What did you do,  _ Rumlow _ ?” Jack growled lowly, his faux respect grating against Brock’s ears. He could forgive the agitation but Jack should know better to think putting his hands on Brock was ever an option. It’s what earned him a punch to the jaw that had him stumbling back and shaking his head to reorient himself as if he was a bear and Brock’s hit was the kick of a rabbit. Brock tried not to think about how quickly his fight response turned over to flight.

“You weren’t supposed to be here.” He huffed and Jack’s eyes widened just enough for Brock to take notice to the underlying nature beneath that angry stare. Fear. Fear for a man who could be killed because of Brock’s selfishness. Brock would handle it, though. Even Pierce saw the value in Jack.. Once again, he gestured to the upper level.

“The sooner we get back, the sooner I can deal with it.” He reiterated, over-enunciating each word through his teeth with a tone that demanded the respect Jack stupidly neglected to adhere to. Finally, he had the good sense to heed that warning.

The first room they entered was unassuming until he caught sight of glinting metal against the light they supplied and, as if on instinct, he fired. Pained, panicked screams left their target but over that, Brock heard a very distinct  _ ‘sonuvabitch!’ _ to his left. Jack was there, half hunched over with his hand gripping his right right ear and Brock pat his SIC on the back. 

“Oh fuck,” He sighed as he moved forward, gun trained on Hall while he kicked the weapon out of his target’s reach. “‘M sorry, Jackie.” 

Jack gave him an affirming grumble. In his minor distraction, Hall tried to ambush him only to get another bullet, this time to the knee, that left him squirming in agony on the cold, hardwood floor. Now immobilized and knowing there was no way out, he did what they all did and begged. 

“Commander, I’m sorry,” Hall coughed out between sobs, spit dripping from his mouth as he cradled his right arm in his lap and gripped his bleeding leg with his left hand. “I’ll be better! I promise, please just give me a-” 

“A chance? I already did that, kiddo.” Brock huffed heartlessly. “I put my ass on the line gettin’ you on my team and look how you repaid me. Disappointing.” 

“I made a mistake!” Hall screamed in his face, frustrated between the pain and Brock’s unwavering cruelty. Brock barked out a laugh that could give a hyena a run for its money and left them all lucky he managed not to start an avalanche. 

“A mistake?” He asked with a condescending sneer, getting to his feet and briefly checking on Jack, who had since recovered, no doubt with a lingering  _ ring _ in his ear. “HYDRA doesn’t make mistakes.” 

“Everybody fucks up!” Hall barked only to cry out again when Brock left another bullet in his previously unharmed leg. The new wound in his thigh bled more vigorously in the other and at that rate, he’d be dead in minutes. 

“Yeah? You fuckin’ up, Jack?” He asked over his shoulder only to hear the other spit out a depraved scoff. He accepted that as his answer. “You’re not gettin’ it. We don’t miscalculate. Ever. We don’t have lapses in judgment and we certainly don’t  _ make mistakes. _ That’s why we’re still alive.” 

Hand raised, he stared down the barrel into those terrified brown eyes as he glared at the writing worm of wasted potential at his feet. No last chances, no last words. 

“Nothin’ personal, ‘s just business.”

But just before he fired, he felt Jack rest his head on his shoulder and startled ever-so-slightly. Hazel eyes flicked over to examine his SIC, making out a thoughtful expression from the faint glow the light left as it reflected off of the wall in front of them. Sharp green eyes gave insight to the gears turning in Jack’s head and Brock could tell by the way his pupils dilated that Jack was about to act on whatever impulsive thought that was captivating him. All it took was a hand over his own and Brock dropped the gun, giving silent permission. 

Without a word, Jack dropped to his knees over Hall. The kid’s eyes were beginning to dull as the blood loss started taking its toll. He wouldn’t be alive for much longer and usually, Brock wouldn’t mind letting it happen. He just really wanted to recite that dramatic one-liner like he was the damn Godfather.

Curiously, he watched Jack shrug his parka off, tossing it to the side before using his, no doubt, freezing cold hands to tilt Hall’s head upward. Whatever the hell it was, Brock watched keenly and with an almost innocent wonder.

Jack had always been something of an anomaly. Perhaps that was why Brock had always been so drawn to him. Never before had he met someone who reacted purely on intuition, someone so confident in his own instincts. Jack trusted himself and his mind to a fault and it was one of the things that Brock had always admired about him. His trust in himself, his unwavering determination, and his loyalty. Three things that outweighed everything else in importance.

“Ever wonder what it would feel like?” Jack asked, breaking the careful quiet between them. 

“I can’t read your mind, baby.” Brock’s voice was hardly above a whisper as he crouched by Jack’s side. It felt wrong to make noise, like he’d shatter Jack’s fragile concentration. All it would take was one wrong move and whatever odd behavior the man was displaying would fade and he’d go all dark and broody again. Brock was far too interested to let that happen. 

“Prey.” Jack said softly, as if it was the only answer he had. Brock was relieved that he elaborated further, because that one word wasn’t nearly enough of an explanation for him. “Cornered and hurting. Terrified but alive. Fresh. I just want to…”

He trailed off and Brock watched with intent as Jack leaned forward, his lips parting so the flat of his tongue could press against Hall’s quivering throat. A gleaming, colorless trail was left behind and Brock’s brows furrowed together as things began to click into place. He didn’t intervene when Jack’s teeth grazed the soft skin and his eyes widened with excitement as Jack finally bit in. There was a bit of resistance before the flesh gave and a soft, wet noise, hardly audible over the whining wind that shook the cabin, accompanied a quick splatter of blood. Brock found himself actually startling at it. 

Hall struggled weakly against the hold Jack had on him, big hands keeping a tight grip on the hair at the nape of his victim’s neck. Blood had since begun to coat the front of Hall’s light grey jumper, as well as Jack’s mouth and Brock found himself completely enamored, captivated by the way Jack pulled his head back, tore something off, and  _ swallowed.  _ All before he sank forward again.

When he pulled back for the second time, not long after his prey stopped moving, Brock watched in awe as a line of sinewy muscle snapped when Jack finally settled back on his haunches. Jack pulled it from his mouth and let the meat he’d already bitten off settle for a minute before he swallowed once more. All was quiet until Brock laughed. Not at Jack, or in disbelief, or from being made uncomfortable. He laughed because he was hard. 

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the cabin in the first fit of naturally occurring light they’d been graced with since they’d touched down in Alaska and Brock would never forget that image. Red painted against delicate pale skin in something far more marvelous than anything DaVinci had ever created and most notably, Jack’s eyes held an unsettling clarity that Brock found beautifully haunting. 

With a slight hesitation, Brock pulled Jack close to him, pressing their foreheads together. Hall had gotten enough attention, it was his turn. 

“You’ve always looked so pretty in red.” He murmured, feeling the viscosity of the blood on Jack’s lips against his own before he pressed their mouths together. Copper exploded in his mouth, bitter and slightly cool since it’s exposure to the air. Jack’s tongue was a nice contrast and Brock found himself oddly turned on by the idea of his own blood drawn by Jack’s teeth. As macabre as it was, Brock knew he would cherish this memory of an experience that no one in the world could ever give him again. Something truly unique that had already seared itself into his mind. 

When the two of them finally separated, it was only because they had no other choice, and their first shared breath left them in a thick cloud as it connected with the cold. Uncaringly, Brock pushed Hall out of the way while he busied himself with pulling Jack onto the squeaky, old mattress that their target had previously been occupying. The fabric there was still warm with the lingering heat from Hall’s now quickly cooling body. Life was so easily stolen, something Brock never paid mind to until that very moment and the notion only made him want to live more. 

He didn’t bother pulling either of their clothes off, only shedding his own thick parka. Even in his need he knew being bare would be a death wish, no matter how much he wanted to kick off all his clothes. Instead, he unzipped the jackets that Jack had layered over each other and pushed up the black compression shirt at the bottom. Dark red stained his chest in a trail that went up his throat and Brock shuddered as he laid his hand in it. 

Stiffly, he was able to get his pants down enough to reach his red coated hand behind him and press two fingers into himself. His breath hitched more from the effort than the stretch which wasn’t so bad, aided by fallout of the mess Jack had made. Hastily, he pulled Jack’s heat free from his binds and Brock reveled in the desperate, hissing breath that fell from his SIC’s lungs. He was quick to work, determined to get Jack slicked up before the blood dried.

Both of them groaned when Brock dropped himself down, pushing as far as he could before their bodies were as flush together as they could be. The slow paced, trembling rise and fall of Jack’s chest was gorgeous and Brock pressed his palms over the muscle there, squeezing the pectorals as if searching for tits. He leaned down, collecting the blood that covered Jack’s nipple, earning a cut off gasp that was quick to turn into a growl. They rolled their hips together, working toward a mutual goal just like they always did. A well oiled machine, two men becoming one in more ways than just physical. They’d always worked efficiently together. 

Eventually, Jack’s hands returned the favor, sliding up Brock’s sculpted abdomen and to his chest, leaving rufescent trails in his wake. He used the support to pull himself up and Brock keened, feeling worshiped. No one else could give him that feeling. Brock’s fingers tangled in Jack’s hair, pulling his head back in a mock display of what Jack had done to Hall not long before. Laying his teeth over Jack’s throat was nothing new, an act he'd performed countless times before. Only this time, he did it with in-depth knowledge of how easy it would be to, honest-to-God, sink his teeth in and tear out all the things that let Jack breathe. The power had him riding a better high than even the best quality coke. 

Jack finished before him but Brock had trained him well. Well enough to know to immediately lay his commander back and slide down his body to engulf Brock’s length in his own mouth. Soft and velvety, Brock tensed against the feeling of Jack’s throat constricting around him and rutted into his mouth until he finally found release, his eyes rolling back in his head momentarily. 

They had nothing to clean each other up with and Brock knew he’d learn the hard way that blood was much, much more gritty and disgusting to deal with than dried cum. But he was tired, the past two days were taxing enough and now that all that pent up energy was released, he had no reason to keep himself cognizant, quickly drifting into the rambling thoughts that would leave him as soon as his consciousness did.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr Plug](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dogbite-propaganda/)  
> Note: This fic is unbeta-ed, I'll be sure to fix the mistakes I find
> 
> I had a lot of trouble tagging this and it's probably because there just isn't a lot going on lmao...but if there's something I missed, feel free to tell me!! This ones been sittin' in the drafts for a while and I finally rewrote it and made it pretty. It may be a little concerning that the gore is more descriptive than the actual sex scene but uhh...idk I'll blame it on watching Hostel while I was rewriting it lol


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